The Judaism I Thought I Knew
As the day of atonement approaches, I find myself preparing to join fellow Jews in synagogue for Yom Kippur. For most of my life, I attended services with reluctance, dreading the long hours of prayer even as I took pride in the enduring survival of our people. In my early understanding, Judaism was simply a collection of holidays, a set of universal principles like helping the vulnerable and speaking truthfully, and the memory of the Holocaust.
I used to describe myself as “just a cultural Jew,” implying that my connection was limited to enjoying quirky humor and hosting dinner parties, without truly engaging with the deeper aspects of Jewish history, language, art, or philosophy. I would claim an ethnic identity or even assert that “social justice is my Judaism,” all while remaining unaware of the extensive and varied Jewish teachings on these subjects. I had never really encountered those who lived by the intricate laws and vibrant traditions that form the core of our faith.
My views shifted dramatically when I began studying Jewish tradition more seriously. I discovered that Judaism goes far beyond a rigid creed demanding blind faith in a singular image of God. In our sacred texts, including the Torah, there is room for debate—even characters in the biblical narratives challenge God, prompting divine reconsideration. The Talmud, a vast compilation of rabbinic discussions, is not a book of fixed dogma but a record of passionate inquiry and diverse opinions. In Judaism, the very act of questioning and exploring is an essential element of one’s spiritual life.
I once subscribed to the notion that Christianity was a faith defined by love while Judaism was bound by strict laws and an often wrathful deity. Yet, listening to the heartfelt prayers recited in synagogue reveals countless affirmations of divine love. As I delved into Jewish law and learned about respectful speech, physical and spiritual care, navigating life’s changes, and ethical interactions in both our professional and personal lives, I found that our tradition offers a wisdom and compassion that many modern ideologies lack.
A significant part of my earlier ignorance can be traced back 2,000 years, to the very origins of Christianity. Early Christian leaders defined their faith in opposition to Judaism by arguing that God had abandoned the Jews in favor of Christians—a concept known as replacement theology or supersessionism. This belief not only discredited Jewish texts and practices but also portrayed Jews as materialistic and spiritually barren. Over the centuries, further condemnation followed, with medieval authorities even going so far as to burn the Talmud.
In 19th-century Western Europe, many Jews who sought to assimilate began minimizing elements of our tradition that were unpopular with the broader society. They reduced the emphasis on the Talmud in favor of the shared biblical narrative, remodeled synagogues to resemble churches, and abandoned distinct rituals such as blowing the shofar or breaking a glass at weddings. These changes were attempts to conform to a dominant culture that was both suspicious and contemptuous of Jewish customs.
At one time, I thought that defining my Jewish identity solely in cultural or social-justice terms felt empowering—a modern way of carving out a personal path. However, as I learned more about our ancestral practices and the historical forces that shaped them, it became clear how much our identity had been distorted by centuries of prejudice and the desire to be accepted by a majority that often misunderstood us.
Today, with renewed challenges from persistent anti-Semitism, it has become evident that a deeper understanding of our tradition is essential. When faced with accusations of an aggressive or punitive deity or the claim that Israel represents a form of colonialism, my limited knowledge once left me at a loss for how to respond. But as I reconnected with the rich tapestry of Jewish thought and practice, I found a robust narrative that enables us to challenge prejudice with confidence.
It may be time for the Jewish community to invest efforts in reclaiming the lost aspects of our heritage and strengthening our communal bonds. In doing so, we not only fortify ourselves against hate but also enrich our lives by embracing a tradition that is profound, humane, and dynamic.
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Growing up, the Bible’s stories deeply impacted me. Now, with over 15 years of preaching experience, I blend timeless teachings with modern technology, making them relevant for today’s world.
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